Chapter 25 Maggie
MAGGIE
Ishift nervously. I knew that not revealing to Declan the full voicemail would come back around, but it isn’t my business.
At the time, I didn’t expect we’d be in Ireland. As soon as we touched down here, he’d iced over. At the mention of Keefe, he positively freezes even though the room is toasty warm.
I don’t know how, but I have to fix it.
After several of Aunt Maureen’s stories, including one about a case of mistaken identity which brought her to the castle in Concordia, it’s time to say goodnight. Noting the cross above the bed, I hold Declan and his aunt’s hands and say a prayer.
The older woman smiles with gratitude as she asks about future plans—engagement, wedding, honeymoon.
I open and close my mouth, but the correction that Declan and I are not a couple doesn’t come out. I feel caught in another lie, but how can I take this small happiness away from the woman?
Declan stands in the corner, his face partway in shadow. Certainly, he heard the comment, but must feel the same way. No sense in dashing his aunt’s happiness.
I give the two a few moments alone and wait for Declan by the front desk. His eyes are glassy and we remain quiet on the short walk to the waiting car. I consider suggesting that he explain to his aunt that we’re not together the next time he sees her.
A secret part of me doesn’t object to the mistake, even though being with Declan is a silly and impossible thing to desire. There is no way a regular girl like me would interest a famous football player like him. End of story.
End zone, friend zone.
But the correction that truly needs to be made is by me. I should confess I heard the full content of the voicemail and didn’t convey the entirety of the message. But I’m afraid that’ll only complicate matters and make things awkward.
As the car idles at a traffic light, I break the silence. “It was really nice to meet your aunt. She’s proud of you and it’s obvious how much she cares about you.”
Declan remains quiet until the traffic signal changes and the car accelerates.
“She’s a special woman. All those years ago, she took me in and loved me even though I was a street thug—I’d gotten in so much trouble.
She forgave me. She also introduced me to Jesus, and it’s in Him that I seek forgiveness. ”
“I hope you’ll forgive me for not correcting her about us. I didn’t want to disappoint or upset her, all things considered.”
My heart thuds, filling in the gap between what I say and what it wants. “Right. We’re just best friends.”
“We get along really well.”
“When you’re not blasting me with water.” My laugh is a pitch too high to be believable as I try to skirt this conversation.
“It’s easy to talk to each other,” he says.
“That’s because you have to. I’m your etiquette coach.”
“What about all our texts? And the years before that?” His eyes are tender, but his brows lift in surprise at how hard I’m trying to deflect the changes between us.
“Right now, I’m in a certain role and I can’t—” I can’t risk losing my job, my best friend, or my heart.
“I know that your favorite kind of cake is carrot, you have an affinity for official days—official doughnut day, official sweet romance day, official bumble bee day, official French language day...I could go on.”
“I’ve always wanted to go back to Paris,” I blurt.
There’s no way I want to update or change our friendship status, but when he finds out I omitted what Mrs. O’Meally said, it’ll mess up everything.
It’s probably better not to allow our feelings to develop.
Yet, Declan is hard to resist. I tell myself that maybe, instead of ruining our friendship, it’ll enhance and nurture it like a flower on a vine.
A vine with thorns, my inner troll pipes up.
Declan’s lips twitch with a smile like he senses my thoughts. “And now I can add Paris to the long list of places we should visit. Let’s not forget you were a field hockey star and you’re a wiz when it comes to grammar and punctuation. Oh, and you can solve a Rubik’s cube in about sixty seconds.”
“And what do I know about you?”
“Almost everything. I’m an open book.” He gestures with his hands, opening and closing them.
I spin my finger around us. “This is new to me.” The items on my swoon list loom large in my mind. “Let’s see. Things I know about Declan Printz. You’re a bad-boy. You get a tattoo every time the team wins. You smell like...” My breath takes on that swoony sigh Etta Jo pointed out.
“You know that I’m also an amazing football player, ruggedly handsome, big muscles—” He flexes, then raises and lowers his eyebrows.
My exhale comes out shaky. “But everyone knows that.”
“Fair enough. But you know more about me than any other single person.”
“Even Brandi?”
“Who’s Brandi?” he asks before leaning forward and giving instructions to the driver, then doesn’t say anything else for the next few minutes as the car motors several miles north.
After a long pause of pregnant silence, we pull into the driveway of a luxury townhome.
Declan finally speaks, “Welcome to Howth Harbor and the house I’ve never set foot in.
I have plenty of room for you to stay, including a guest space that Aunt Maureen was supposed to occupy, but she preferred her flat in the city proper.
In the meantime, I’m going to prove that you know more about me than anyone else. ” He starts to get out of the car.
I grab his arm. “Wait—I have something to tell you.” I struggle to keep my voice even.
He lowers back in and tilts his head in my direction.
“I have a confession.”
“That you’re actually a vampire? That you love pickles and peanut butter? That you swapped out your college roommate’s designer water for tap water? Two truths and one lie for me, baby. I am not a vampire.”
The corners of my lips tug upward. Declan can consider his mission to make me smile a success. Nonetheless, I take a deep breath and hold his gaze.
His smile falls when he realizes that I’m not joking.
“The first night when you asked me to listen to the voicemail, I didn’t tell you the whole story. I think it was about your friend Keefe—the person your Aunt Maureen mentioned.”
“What did the message say?” His voice is tight.
The content of the voicemail has played in my mind every day since I heard it.
“It was a woman. She sounded upset. What I’d told you about her saying that you should call, no matter what time of day or night, and that it was important, were both true.
But she also said that he might not make it.
That even though it’s been years, you should come.
Her voice cracked and she was crying, so I couldn’t quite make out the name or who he was, but now I realize that it was probably Keefe. ”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“It seemed too personal. From the past. Something we don’t talk about, even though we do know a lot about each other.
It was for you to hear. Not me. I tried to get you to listen to it yourself.
I should’ve told you the truth. I’m sorry.
I realize now that was selfish of me. I wasn’t thinking about you and how it would’ve been important for you to go to his bedside.
Mostly, I didn’t want to open the door to my past,” I blather with apology in my voice.
Declan’s eyes are icy and he gets out of the car.
A moment later, he comes around to the passenger side and opens my door.
I figure I’ll go back to the hotel after I dropped that truth bomb, but he holds out his hand to help me out of the vehicle.
“Come on, Maggles. We have to talk.”